


snapshots of a life well lived

by antiopesgirlfriend



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiopesgirlfriend/pseuds/antiopesgirlfriend
Summary: the life of yasmin khan told through memorable moments *on hiatus*





	1. childhood

**Author's Note:**

> hey gang, here's for another thasmin fic. i've missed these gals

17/6/1999

It can take a lot to bring a person into existence. But soon enough, one minute they are yet to be born, and the next they have been brought into the world, unready to face its trials and tribulations. At 19:48 on 17th June 1999, Yasmin Khan has only existed inside Najia Khan’s swollen belly and has only been seen through a blurry black and white scan. At 19:49 on 17th June 1999, Yasmin Khan is born. She exits fully and vibrantly, to be seen and heard and held in focus and in colour.

29/2/2000

The first year of the second millennium is a leap year. Once every four years, the shortest month is allowed to gain one day and still remain shorter than its peers. But one more day is worth a lot. One more day holds 24 more hours. 1440 more minutes. 86400 more seconds. Infinite more opportunities.

Yasmin Khan, now a little more than 8 months old, decides she will take this extra time for all it is worth and speaks her first word. It is not a mere utterance. She speaks it strongly and means it wholly. It is loud and clear, and it sets the tone for the rest of her life perfectly. It is her life and she will lead it the way she wants to.

It is during a game of peek-a-boo. Hakim Khan had been playing the game with his daughter since getting home. The novelty of the game of object permanence wears thin. Yaz’s understanding of the concept is, of course, non-existent. Whether she has just had enough of the game or if she is weary of her father’s recurrent disappearance, she makes it clear it is time for the game to cease.

As Hakim covers his face with his hands once more, he is met with a defiant command.

“No.” For such a small body, her voice is incredibly loud.

Hakim is quick to uncover his eyes and look at his daughter in astonishment. Unsure if he has heard her correctly, he covers his face to see if it will elicit the same reaction.

It does. A large voice from a small body. A word spoken with sincerity and understanding of its meaning. Hakim calls for his wife and revels in Najia’s marvel at their daughter’s word following one more repetition of the game. After that, though, he stops. That is what his daughter had asked him for, after all. He wants his daughter to feel heard even with just one word in her vocabulary.

2/9/2003

At the tender age of four, Yasmin Khan has her first ever day at school. After just four years of being alive, Yaz has accumulated knowledge each and every day. She has learnt how to talk, how to walk how to skip, hop, jump, swim and play. She has learnt how to make friends. School will only teach her more. She will learn how to read and write, how to be independent, how to be mindful and how to form her own opinion.

On her first day, Yaz’s parents take her to the place that will be her classroom for the rest of the year. Hakim holds her left hand and Najia holds her right. Their grip is tight. It is not to comfort Yaz, but for them. Today marks the moment they lose their little girl to the wider world. It marks the moment she is out of their hands for six hours each and every weekday. It marks the moment she begins to grow up without them. Without their help.

Yaz is ready to begin the day before she even sets foot in the classroom. She pulls against her parents, busting to explore her new surroundings. They are not ready to let go. Tears brim in their eyes, but they know they must let their daughter go so she can grow.

Though Yaz is a tiny bundle of excitement with eyes only for her new play area, she takes a moment to tell her parents to have a good day. The wish is kind and the sentiment warms her parents’ hearts. But she runs off before they can return the statement.

Najia and Hakim do not leave immediately. They loiter outside the door for a minute, just long enough to see Yaz lock eyes on a boy. He is slightly smaller than her, and made smaller still as he tries to shrink into himself. Yaz makes a beeline for him. Najia and Hakim leave, content their daughter will be just fine. They only hope the same can be said for them.

5/7/2005

The end of the summer term draws near. Yaz is about to complete her second year of school. Physically, Yaz has grown exactly 10.6cm since starting. In life, she has grown immeasurably. There is one thing that has remained constant since her first day. Her best friend, Ryan. The boy she had beelined for had stuck to Yaz for the entirety of their first day. They remain inseparable.

On a sunny day, their class is released for afternoon play. It is a privilege they do not receive every day and, when the welcome break is announced, Yaz and Ryan meet eyes immediately and their little brains are set alight by mischief-making.

They meet outside, at the corner of the Year 2 classroom. Its drab brick walls make their bright yellow school uniform stand out against it. For this reason, it is where they always meet. Sun in her eyes, Yaz tells him of her plan. She is done with learning for the day. They are to find sticks to make a fire. With any luck, they can burn the entire building down.

“What’s going on here?” their teacher says, walking over, eyeing up their growing pile of twigs.

Yaz and Ryan share a panicked look. They hadn’t anticipated being rumbled so early. Yaz is the first to find words. “We’re building a fire,” she says, unable to find words to mask the truth.

Ryan nods rapidly, eager to support his partner in crime.

“Interesting,” says the teacher, raising an eyebrow. “Well, do you remember what we learnt about attacking castles on our school trip on Tuesday?”

The terrible two shake their heads innocently.

“About setting fires?” the teacher prompts. “To stone and wooden castles?” she continues. When they still don’t answer, she sighs. “They only set fire to wood castles because they couldn’t set the stone ones alight.”

Yaz and Ryan stare at her blankly.

The teacher sighs again, tired after a long day with a reluctant class. “You can’t set the school on fire because it’s made of stones. Save the fires for forest school, okay?”

“Okay,” Yaz and Ryan reply in unison.

Once she is happy the teacher has left, Yaz’s eyes sparkle and her face glows. “Are you still in?”

Hesitant, but keen to stick by his best friend, Ryan nods vigorously. “Do I get more sticks?”

“No,” Yaz shakes her head. “It’s fire time. Get two sticks and rub them together really fast to start the fire!”

And so, the two set to it. They hunch over their pile of sticks on the solid concrete playground, their muscles burning with the effort. The teacher walks by again, keeping an eye on their antics, leaving them to their play, confident that they will never be able to start a fire.

“Ryan!” exclaims Yaz, angling her nose towards the sky. “I can smell fire!”

The teacher stops in her tracks. She too can smell smoke.

“Keep going!” Yaz shouts to Ryan, all thoughts of keeping their activities a secret gone with the wind. “We can do it!”

For a moment, the teacher is concerned. It is Thursday, the day the Year 4 pupils have forest school. It is they who have successfully made a fire. She smiles to herself, letting Yaz and Ryan carry on with their fire attempts for the remaining six minutes of playtime. However, she makes a mental note to talk to her class about the importance of fire safety and to mention their interest in making fires to whoever picks them up from school before they can cause any real damage.

20/11/2007

Children hold strange thoughts of what is true. On this particular Monday morning, a new girl joins Yaz and Ryan’s class. She is smaller than most, tiny from waist to wrists. Her hair so blonde it is almost white in tight curls down to her shoulders. Yaz is mesmerised at first glance. At playtime, all the girls gather around her, eager to make a new best friend. It is a cold November day, the breeze brisk, but the weather dry and so the girls sit in a circle together on the cold concrete.

It is Yaz that the girl sits next to. Yaz feels overwhelmingly happy that she has chosen to sit at her side, and her heart thuds a little harder with pride. Her name is Daisy and it strikes Yaz how well suited she is to her name.

Daisy is asked the usual questions – where is she from? What school did she go to? Where does she live now? Then Izzy asks something that is more weighted. “Who do you fancy?”

Yaz thinks it’s a little too early for Daisy to be able to answer. She had only been with them for one maths lesson. It was unlikely she had even had a chance to talk to more than the three boys on her table. But, before Yaz can protest the question on Daisy’s behalf, Izzy speaks up again. “You have to say someone. There’s something wrong with you if you don’t fancy anyone.”

These are words she has spoken before. They are echoed from her older sister. They have caught Yaz out before. Izzy had liked Ryan but thought that Yaz did so was jealous. And, when Yaz rejected this thought, Izzy insisted that she _had _to fancy someone, and that it must be Ryan if she was denying it so strongly.

Unbeknownst to Izzy Flint, these words had eaten away at Yaz. Was she broken if she didn’t fancy anyone? It played on her mind more than it should. Her parents insisted she was too young for relationships, but they thought she was too young for a lot of things. Their words did little to ease her mind. From that moment on, Yaz always answered with the name of a boy who lived on her floor at Park Hill. Enough people had met him to know he wasn’t made up, but nobody knew him well enough to judge Yaz for it. It was a perfect solution.

Now, Yaz waits with bated breath for Daisy’s answer. It comes out quietly, but the melodic tone remains present. “It’s a bit early to say,” she answers, but cottons onto Izzy’s sharp intake of breath and she hurriedly adds, “But Ryan is kind of cute.”

Izzy’s eyes light up.

Yaz’s heart sinks.

Yaz is pretty sure that her heart sinks because she fears she will lose her best friend to the pretty new girl. Her jealousy feels slightly misplaced with that reasoning, but she cannot think of another explanation. As Izzy goes on, taking over the conversation, Yaz makes plans in her head of different ways she can occupy Daisy’s time so she doesn’t lose her best friend.


	2. a teenager in education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yaz's life up and until the end of secondary school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has risen from the dead from one chapter! enjoy it, pals !!
> 
> ps. thanks to jolivira for her massive hand in the party section - i could not have done it without you <3

18/06/2009

In England, the age of criminal responsibility is ten years old.

The day after Yaz’s tenth birthday, Ryan is invited around for belated birthday celebrations as Yaz had been at football training the night before. Daisy, though invited, cannot come due to prior arrangements. The three of them are close, though nothing more than friendship has developed between Ryan and Daisy.

Yaz and Ryan’s evening together starts the minute they leave school. The plan: use the money Yaz’s parents gave her to buy as many sweets and crisps as they can before racing home to embark on their biggest Mario Kart tournament yet. Alas, this is not what the universe has in store for them. While they are in the sweet treats aisle, there is the sound of a kerfuffle by the tills. Eyes wide, Yaz and Ryan look to each other and, without a word, speed through to the site of the sound.

Three teenage boys are being held by police officers, their hoods pulled down and hands cuffed behind them. They are immediately recognisable. Their faces have been plastered around all the local shops on posters, and their photos regularly appeared on the news. For months, they had been terrorising shops around the city, brandishing knives and stealing money. Right before Yaz and Ryan’s very eyes, they have been caught.

One policeman stands behind the boys, and a policewoman stands in front of them, reciting their rights. Yaz looks at the policewoman in awe. She has so much power, and seemingly seamlessly emits it. It is now, the day after her tenth birthday, that Yaz decides how she wants her future to look. She wants to be a police officer.

1/09/2010

Now a lot older, taller and wiser than her first ever day at school, Yaz is set to begin her first ever day at secondary school. Though she is very different, and a lot has changed, plenty remains the same. Her new uniform is a little big. The shoulder seams fall well past her shoulders and her jumper’s sleeves fall well past her fingertips. “You’ll grow into them,” says Najia, echoing the words she had spoken just seven years before. Yaz, with a little more attitude, rolls her eyes as she rolls up her sleeves so they sit halfway up her forearms. Everything is still immensely baggy, but at least slightly shorter.

Another thing remains the same, and it is a sore spot for Yaz. She is going to a school where she knows nobody. Daisy had moved schools again the year before, and now Yaz and Ryan are going their separate ways. This leaves her with two fears. The first is that she will never find as good of a friend in someone new. Their bond feels more close-knit than family. Yaz does not know how she will manage without seeing Ryan every day. The second fear is that she and Ryan will lose contact forever. Their friendship, though strong when they saw each other for at least thirty-five hours every week, may weaken with time apart.

This time, her first day is laced with a glumness which she is sure will do her no favours in helping her to find a new friend. But she doesn’t _want _to find a new friend. She just wants to be starting new adventures with Ryan. But, it cannot be so. She puts on a stiff upper lip and faces the day with more of a grimace than a grin. It isn’t ideal, but it is a start. And things can only go up from here.

8/09/2010

A week of school passes, and Yaz has yet to have had all her lessons. The first couple of days had been an induction period, and so no regular lessons had occurred on Monday or Tuesday. Though the weekend has been and gone and was a welcome break, Yaz feels as though she hasn’t stopped struggling. The first lesson of the day is history. She doesn’t know what to expect from the lesson, but she has heard plenty about the teacher himself. His name is Mr Smiles and it is an antonym to his personality. Not only has he never cracked a smile, but rumour has it nobody in his class is allowed even the hint of a grin either. So, to say Yaz was nervous for the lesson would be a gross understatement.

The rumours are true. A steely man with silvery hair greets each and every pupil at the door. Each pupil is to give their name so they can be told where to sit. Any sign of a curl of the lips is met by a glare and a sharp point to the seat they must go to. It is not said but it is clear he wants silence.

Yaz is placed next to a girl with jumbo box braids down to her collarbones. Though fear is deeply instilled in Yaz, she braves a slight raise of the eyebrow to her new neighbour in solidarity for the next hour of hell. They will get through it together. Anaaya and Yaz. Yaz and Anaaya.

This is how Yaz makes her new best friend. Not by bumbling over to the quietest person in the room and talking her head off like last time. This time, they are placed together in silence and are joined by a mere look. The look signifies solidarity and support. Two great things to build a friendship on.

26/11/2012

Relationships at a young age are often looked upon with criticism. Young people are said to mistake lust for love and are infected with idealisms of all kinds. But is affection ever wasted? Teenagers feel emotions so intensely that they are often swept under the rug as puberty-endorsed hormones. But are they not still feelings if they are felt?

For a month or so now, Yaz has had intense feelings for a boy in her year. They share the same birthday. His name is Harry, but he goes by his surname - Short. He is everything but. Ninety percent of his body is made up by his gangly arms and legs. Yaz thinks it is endearing how he doesn’t seem to have grown into his limbs yet. However, she does worry about his future growth. At 6’4”, she already has to crane her neck to look him in the eye. If he gets any taller, she fears she may break her neck trying to make eye contact with him.

Short, sometimes also known as Shorter, asks Yaz out over the phone. It is a brief call, and he fumbles over his words, but his message is clear. Yaz answers with a shaky breath. The following night, she would be going to the cinema with Shorter. Tonight, she goes to sleep for the first time in her life in a relationship. As she lies in bed thinking about it, she is worried her heart might leap out of her chest. Her mind goes into overdrive and it takes her hours to get to sleep. But Yaz does not mind. The boy she fancies likes her back. She is now his girlfriend. She is happy.

28/02/2013

There is a downside to having such intense feelings as a teen. The highs feel like you are soaring, but the lows feel like you are drowning. When Shorter breaks up with Yaz, it isn’t unexpected. Their texting has slowed over the last few days, and he has been spending a lot more time with his friends than he has with Yaz. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

When Shorter had asked Yaz out, she felt as though she was walking on air. When Shorter breaks up with Yaz, she feels the weight of the oceans crush her heart and she chokes on every breath she takes.

Yaz and her sister are not close but Yaz is thankful for Sonya this evening. Word had got to Sonya about the breakup before Yaz could tell her herself. Sonya abandons her friends after school and marches Yaz to their local corner shop. She pays for ice-cream and chocolates and drags Yaz home to their flat. The pair spend the rest of the day in Sonya’s room watching films on Yaz’s laptop. No words are spoken, but they are not necessary. Yaz knows she can always rely on her sister when in need.

11/04/2014

At the tender age of fourteen, Yasmin Khan attends her first party. It is not the first party she has ever been to, just the first one with alcohol. And, when she arrives, it feels as though people are more concerned about their alcohol consumption than they are about their friends. Or themselves. And Yaz is about to join them.

There is a tightness in Yaz’s chest, and heat pulses to her fingertips. She knows she will be in huge trouble if her parents find out about her attending the party. They think she’s having a sleepover at Anaaya’s. Anaaya’s parents think she is having a sleepover at Yaz’s. Neither set of parents think there will be alcohol involved. They are wrong. Anaaya’s older brother had bought them four cans of cider each. Yaz reasoned that if she is going to go against her parents and her religion by drinking alcohol, it is probably best to start with something weaker. But Yaz’s reasoning is set awry from the start. Anaaya’s brother got them K Cider and tells them to mix it with blackcurrant squash to make it taste nicer. More bang for your buck, he tells them when they realise the cider is twice as strong as they were expecting.

It appears everyone in their year is at the party, from their school and several surrounding ones. There is quite the collection of people milling around in the kitchen, the lounge, outside and even in the bathroom. Some people sneak upstairs, choosing to ignore the sign prohibiting them from ascending.

Yaz and Anaaya stick together. They open their first drink in the kitchen, faces contorting in disgust when they try the K Cider without squash in it to mask the taste. They laugh and top up their cans with the blackcurrant cordial as much as they can. It barely disguises the taste underneath but by the time they have made it to the bottom of the garden, Yaz has finished her first drink. Unaccustomed to drinking alcohol, it goes straight to her head. She feels light and breezy. Her head feels a little fuzzy but she ignores that. Nothing seems as serious as before. Yaz cannot fathom why she shouldn’t be allowed to drink alcohol at all. She thinks it is great. She has a newfound confidence that surprises her. Anaaya isn’t quite as tipsy as Yaz but she is well on her way and makes no effort to discourage her friend from going to get her second drink. Anaaya will stay outside, though, and stay with the group they have found while Yaz nips back into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Yaz gets distracted. She takes a few gulps from the new can to make room for the squash and, after trying it once more, decides it isn’t as bad as she first thought. She turns from the table and is met by an old friend.

“Ryan!” Yaz yells as she wraps her arms around her childhood best friend. She hasn’t seen him in almost three years now and, other than seeing each other’s posts on social media, they have lost touch.

“Hey, Yaz,” Ryan replies half awkwardly at the unexpected contact and half chuckling at his old friend’s tipsiness. “How’ve you been?”

“Not bad,” answers Yaz. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old,” says Ryan. Then he leans in and lowers his voice, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “The dyspraxia’s causing a few issues with some of the boys in my year, so I’m hoping to redeem myself.”

Yaz’s eyes soften. It always pained her when her friend’s coordination disorder caused him grief. “Well, if you need help with that I’m always here.”

“Thanks, Yaz,” he says, comforted by the support Yaz still has for him.

They talk as they make their way through the house towards the garden but Yaz stops suddenly when they step into the lounge.

“You okay Yaz?” Ryan asks.

Yaz nods fervently. There is a drunken game of spin the bottle beginning on the floor. “This is it, Ryan,” she says. “This is your redemption.”

Both of Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense,” says Yaz. “You’ll be in with the lads after this.” Her cider softens her Ss to Sh sounds.

Ryan scrambles for ways to get out of Yaz’s plan but fears his efforts are futile. “But Izzy’s there, Yaz. Izzy Flint. You’ve always hated her.”

Yaz shrugs her shoulders. “The chances of you having to kiss her are minimal. Stop fannying around and let’s go.”

They go. Yaz and Ryan squeeze into the circle in a spot that is only big enough for one. They watch the game and remain unaffected. Then it is Izzy Flint’s spin.

As Izzy reaches for the bottle, Yaz’s breath hitches in her throat. She does not breathe until the bottle stops spinning. Her next breath is loaded with panic. The bottle has landed on her.

Yaz’s eyes widen as the corners of Izzy’s mouth curl into a cruel smile. “What’s the matter, Yasmin?” Izzy says, her eyes glinting. “Scared?”

“No. Never,” says Yaz, her voice weaker than her words.

“Come over here, then.”

And so Yaz does. She crawls over, avoiding the bottle. She reaches Izzy, unsure what to do next. It does not escape her that she has never kissed anyone before and that this is the worst way to have her first kiss with the one person she dislikes the most. Yaz decides in that moment that the kiss does not count as her first. It is part of a game. That is all. A bit of practice before the real first kiss comes along.

It is Izzy who leans forward to begin the kiss. Her lips capture Yaz’s. It is nothing Yaz expected. Though brief, it is gentle, and her lips are softer then Yaz could have ever imagined. It feels as though it is over before it has truly begun. To her surprise, Yaz is left wanting more. As she makes her way back to her place in the circle, the boys’ hollering beginning to die down. Yaz notices the dark look in Izzy’s eyes and can’t help but think Izzy feels the same way.

Over the next few spins, Yaz finishes her second drink. After a couple more spins, Yaz announces a trip to the toilet.

There is a small queue but thankfully it is quick. The group of girls in front of her all go in together and are unexpectedly fast in their toileting ventures. Yaz makes her way in and groans when she realises there is no lock on the door. The toilet is too far from the door to hold it closed while she’s weeing but she is too desperate to find someone to guard the door for her.

Yaz is shocked at how long she wees for. She doesn’t think it is possible to hold so much liquid inside her body. But it appears to be the truth and she closes her eyes, waiting and hoping nobody will come in. When she finishes, she opens her eyes and is taken aback by how the room appears to spin. She blinks hard, hoping her vision will straighten so she can stand up without falling over.

The standing is successful, and Yaz makes her way to the sink to wash her hands. She is just pumping the soap onto her wet hands when there is a knock at the door. “I’ll be done in a minute,” calls Yaz, now rinsing her hands of the soap.

But the door opens anyway. And in walks Izzy Flint, closing the door firmly behind her. “I thought I’d find you in here,” she says, walking towards Yaz. Her hands cup Yaz’s jaw and she pulls her towards her, capturing Yaz’s lips with her own.

There is no time for Yaz to react. Izzy’s lips are just as soft as last time, but this kiss is more intense, more wanting. Yaz does not stop her. She does not want to. Instead, she kisses Izzy back. This kiss counts. The initial rush of helplessness dissipates and Yaz is overcome by a surging tide of need. She deepens the kiss, and, in response, Izzy pushes her against the wall.

Yaz’s heart pounds against her ribcage, her knees weakening. Izzy’s fists twist at the hem of Yaz’s shirt. Even though they had never kissed, Shorter had never been able to make Yaz feel anything close to this. She pushes this thought out of her mind as heat rises from her stomach to her chest. Izzy’s fingertips brush Yaz’s exposed sliver of skin across her abdomen and fire ignites in their path. Every touch feels forbidden as her whole body reacts to each one.

Just as the whisper of a moan leaves Yaz’s lips, the door is kicked open. Standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open, was none other than Izzy’s best friend, Ashley. At the clearance of her throat, Izzy stumbles back, fumbling for words.

“What the fuck!” Izzy spits in disgust, distancing herself from Yaz as much as she can. At Ashley’s side, she turns to her friend without a single glance at Yaz and says, “I always knew she was a dyke.”

They leave the bathroom and Yaz can hear the ripples of laughter as the tale of her forcing herself onto Izzy is passed from person to person. Unable to stand the stares, Yaz runs to the kitchen, needing to leave but hoping to find a friend along the way. In the kitchen, Anaaya is nowhere in sight. But Ryan is. From the look in his eye, she knows the story has already reached him. Yaz silently pleads for him to help her but she is drowned out by the voice of one of Ryan’s friends.

“Your friend’s a lesbian?” he leers. “Hot!”

Ryan looks between his new friend and Yaz. He laughs awkwardly, unsure which side to play to. He chooses his new friend. “Even hotter when I get to watch!”

Yaz only stays long enough to see the pair high five. She rushes out of the door, slamming the door behind her. Ryan’s redemption was her fall from grace.

Tears leave tracks down Yaz’s cheeks as she races to the bus stop. They sober her up entirely. There is ringing in her ears. It is the sound of her world falling apart. The words from the night bounce around her head.

_I always knew she was a dyke._

_Even hotter when I get to watch!_

The two sentences go round and round in her head. An unwelcome replacement of the spinning she felt in the bathroom.

The two sentences go round and round in her head. The words are powerful. They have created an Us and a Them.

The two sentences go round and round in her head. They will be stored up for years to come, adding to the collection of splinters from conversations gone by.

1/05/2014

The first day of May is known as May Day. It is the start to warmer weather and the blossoming of flowers and trees. A time of love and romance. A time of new beginnings. A time of hope and joy after a long winter.

It has been less than a month since the party and the incident with Izzy Flint, and Yaz has done a lot of thinking since then. Her thinking is mostly realisation. For over a year now Yaz has been doubting her feelings. Not all of them. Just the romantic ones. There has been a voice niggling at the back of her mind, telling her that her feelings towards girls are a lot stronger than they should be. A lot more romantic than they should be. And, as much as she hates it, the kiss with Izzy consolidated the doubt in her mind. Yaz still fancies boys. But she also fancies girls.

Deep, deep inside, Yaz knows this is fine. But there are still thoughts perpetrated by her peers, by her family, and by the media. Her identity is not real. It should be hidden, killed, eradicated. Or, she could be converted, as if her identity makes up the entirety of her being. Despite being the one to kiss Yaz, these are the thoughts Izzy preaches. If not in that moment, she had made sure to do so at school. She has made a barrier between Yaz and everyone else. At this point, it is futile to try to hide it. Any attempt to reject the label would be put down as ‘the lady doth protest too much’. And it would be a lie.

Yaz knows she has been outed, like a butterfly ripped from its cocoon. Her experience of liberation has been robbed. She does not feel as whole as she needs to be. Now she must work twice as hard as everyone else to be able to be who she is. From here on out, she would have to spend the rest of her life coming out over and over again. She would be expected to talk about it; she would be expected to defend herself.

Yaz knows she has been outed at school, but she has not yet been outed at home. By now, Sonya has probably heard the whispers around school, but her parents had not been subjected to it. Yaz trusts Sonya to not say anything, but she wants her parents to hear it from her. And so, it must be done with haste.

May Day is the day she chooses. It is apt, she thinks, to come out to her parents on a day whose name is shared with an international distress call.

Najia and Hakim Khan sit in their kitchen after a long day’s work. Each of them nurses a hot cup of tea, hoping to warm themselves from the inside out. Though it is the start of spring, it is not yet pleasant, and the breeze is still brisk. Neither of them expects what will come next, though neither are surprised by the news.

Yaz stands at the doorway of her bedroom, hovering, certain that if she steps into the kitchen, her parents will be able to hear her heart beating. Her heart is not what they hear. They hear her uncertain steps, the sound dulled by her fluffy socks.

“Are you alright, Yaz, love?” Najia calls, craning her neck to try to catch a glimpse of her daughter. She cannot see her, but she can tell her children apart from the sound of their walk.

When Yaz comes into view, she is unable to find her voice. Her mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out.

Hakim sets his mug on the table, not paying attention to its placement away from a coaster. “What’s going on, Yaz?”

Yaz knows the words she wants to say but her vocal cords fail her.

She shakes her head, hoping somehow it might reset her ability to speak.

It works.

“I need to tell you something,” she says. Her voice is choppy, and she’s fighting air like it’s going to kill her if she breathes too deeply. “And I need to tell you now.”

Her parents nod gently, encouraging her to continue.

“I like girls,” Yaz says so quickly, the words are barely audible. “And boys,” she adds. “I like girls and boys. Both. I like both.”

Najia’s shoulders relax at Yaz’s admission.

Hakim reaches out gently. He glances at his wife and back to his daughter, the parents agreed. “We love you, Yasmin.”

Najia nods. “Your father’s right. This doesn’t change that.”

Air floods into Yaz’s lungs and she can feel sharp prickles in her nose. She wills her tears to not spill over. “Really?”

“Really,” her father replies. He pulls her into a hug and Najia joins. The hug is exactly what Yaz needs. She is held tight and fast and finally feels safe, something she has not felt since the party.

“We will always support you, Yasmin,” says her mother. “Just don’t go breaking any laws, okay?”

“Actually, that reminds me of something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Najia’s eyes quickly shift from warm and welcoming to frosty and unforgiving. “What have you done, Yasmin Khan?” Her tone is as cold and harsh as the North Sea.

“No!” Yaz furiously backpedals. “I’ve not done anything! I was just thinking about joining the police.”

Hakim sits silently, watching his wife’s reaction. She shakes her head slowly, her jaw clenches and her lips set into a firm line. He gently strokes her back, but it does nothing to calm her. Yaz looks on in unexpected horror. This is not the conversation she had expected this reaction to appear in.

“Mum,” says Yaz gingerly. “Are you okay?”

“I need a minute,” Najia replies, getting up and walking briskly to her room.

Yaz turns to Hakim, mouth hanging open. “What did I do?”

“It’s a dangerous job, Yaz. Your mother’s just worried,” he pats her gently on the shoulder. “I’ll have a word with her. But in the meantime, give her some space.”

Hakim leaves his daughter in a daze. She is still comforted by the relief that her parents accept her but left wanting after the rejection of her dreams for the future.

Sonya slinks out of her room and into Yaz’s line of sight. “Proud of you,” she mutters

Yaz does not meet her eyes but nods her thanks.

“Good one on making Mum cry, though!” Sonya provokes.

Yaz’s eyes immediately find her sister’s as her lips curl into a smile. She utters no reply, though. Yaz merely presents her middle finger to her sister, and it is met with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter was enjoyable (and not too painful) ! just like last time, please let me know your thoughts, and please tell me if there's anything you'd like to see in yaz's future. thirteen will be appearing in the next chapter...


	3. the doctor falls into yaz's life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here with another chapter !! i hope you enjoy

7/10/2018

On 7th October 2018, Yasmin Khan’s life changed forever. Her working day begins with a menial matter as she attends a parking spat between two women in Nether Edge. She is tiring of these calls and complains to her superior. At this point, she is overqualified to deal with parking disputes, even as a probationer. Yaz asks for something different; something that will challenge her. It is the universe that answers her request.

A report of the appearance of an unidentified object takes Yasmin Khan out into the Peak District. She is met by a boy of a similar age insisting a metallic-esque object materialised out of nothing when he was looking for his bike he had thrown into a tree. Already annoyed by the human challenge rather than the challenge of the incident, Yaz asks for his details. “Name, sir,” she demands.

“Ryan Sinclair,” he replies with a sigh.

Yaz stops in her tracks. “Wait,” she pauses in thought. “Redlands Primary?”

“Yeah,” he replies, reassured the consequence for his call won’t be too harsh.

“Yasmin Khan.”

Recognition floods Ryan’s features. “Oh my God. Yaz?!” he exclaims. “Wow.”

“I know,” says Yaz, smiling and hoping Ryan can’t see the memories of the party passing before her eyes.

“Look at you,” he says, trying to keep the conversation moving. The shame of his actions bring him great discomfort and he wants nothing more than to skirt past the subject. “You’re a fed.”

“Yeah, we don’t call it that.”

Ryan chuckles awkwardly, accepting he deserves a few moments of unease, though is thankful when the conversation moves onto other things and it feels a bit more like when they were inseparable.

-

Just as the day turns to night, Ryan gets a call from his Nan reporting an unusual stopping of the train between Hathersage and Grindleford. Deciding to investigate further, Yaz drives Ryan to the train, lights flashing and sirens sounding. It is when she is on the train Yaz realises the true nature of their new circumstances. And it is here that Yaz meets the being that will change her life forever.

“Fat lot of use you two were,” the being says to Yaz and Ryan.

They turn to face her incredulously as she walks away.

“Hey!” Yaz contests strongly. And so begins her third absurd encounter of the day. The woman who fell to Earth who doesn’t even know herself proclaims the two of them friends minutes later. There, just outside of the entrance to the Totley Tunnel, Yaz feels as though someone has run their finger down her spine, sending a spider web of tingles across her skin. But Yaz also feels as though she is home.

28/10/2018

From the moment Yaz came out to her parents, they had been nothing but supportive. Her mother in particular. She has done her utmost to prove to Yaz that, though she had not spent her pregnancy and Yaz’s childhood imagining Yaz living her life with another woman, she would be perfectly happy if that’s the path her life took. This is a sentiment Yaz appreciates, and she feels lucky to have such supportive parents. She just wishes her mother wasn’t so forward with it.

Amid a spider infestation in Sheffield, Yaz, the Doctor, Najia and her ex-boss Jack Robertson are attempting to find the route of the cause. The Doctor singles out Najia as the link between the two known locations of spiders.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Najia defends herself.

“Are you sure?” asks the Doctor, inquisitively but not accusingly.

“Sorry, but who are you?” Najia interjects, not wanting to be walked over as she had been continuously throughout the day thus far. “How do you know my daughter? Why have I never met you before?” she directs her questions at the Doctor, though takes the tone indicates vague hostility rather than curiosity.

If affected by her tone, the Doctor does not show it. But, before she can get a word in, Yaz speaks up. “Oh, not now!” she says to her mother, already anticipating the path of the conversation. Her protestation is insufficient to deter Najia.

“Yes now,” she replies. “It’s not a difficult question.”

“It is a bit of a long answer,” says the Doctor, not wanting to get into the intricacies of time travel just yet.

“Well, I’ve got time,” counters Najia.

“But I haven’t. Not right now.” the Doctor is stern, and her word is final. She shoots a quick look to Yaz to check she hasn’t overstepped any boundaries. It is a fruitless effort as the Doctor knows she would never act another way, but Yaz appreciates it nevertheless.

“Are you two seeing each other?” asks Najia.

Yaz’s eyes almost fall out of her head. Najia has always been as subtle as a gong, but Yaz had hoped this time she might have a little more tact. Yaz scoffs incredulously. She hopes it is believable. She hopes her mother will not see through it, and even more so that the Doctor will not. For Yaz has a secret. A secret she has been holding close to her chest. So close, in fact, that it seems to have enveloped the entirety of her heart and lungs. No-one could know her feelings for the Doctor. Least of all the Doctor herself.

“I don’t think so,” the Doctor replies to Najia. “Are we?” she asks Yaz.

“We’re friends,” says Yaz. She hopes it is convincing. They are friends, after all. She just happens to have more-than-platonic feelings for the Doctor.

Najia looks uncertain.

Yaz has never been a good liar. “I owe the Doctor my life, _quite _a few times over,” she adds.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Najia, pointedly.

“Please can we not have this conversation now? And not in front of him?” Yaz hopes the delay will lead to her mother forgetting the conversation entirely. Najia is not usually one to forget anything, especially things Yaz wants her to forget – but Yaz hopes there have been sufficient strange arachnid activities for them to take prime position in her memory instead.

“Oh, I’m enjoying this,” interjects Jack Robertson. His personality is as slimy as his hair gel, and his smarmy comment leads to all three women shooting him a warning glare.

11/5/2019

Yaz, all in all, feels like a very lucky girl. Her life is going well, she has friends who are as good as family, and today is her first date with the girl of her dreams. However, her date with the Doctor isn’t quite what she had been picturing.

In her head, Yaz had seen herself and the Doctor hiking across the hills of the Peak District, exploring far off planets or just spending time together, alone, in the TARDIS. But the Doctor had had other ideas. She was taking Yasmin Khan to Ponds Forge. They were going swimming.

Yaz is a bundle of nerves. She has been on dates before. But she has not been on a first date wearing so little before. Her azure and white striped swimming costume was the most modest one she could find in Primark at such late notice, but she still feels as though it should be covering more of her body in all of the places possible.

Alas, Yaz’s nerves do not last long. The Doctor comes tumbling out of her changing room, her clothes barely balanced upon her arms as she bumbles over to a locker and throws in her belongings haphazardly.

“There we go,” says the Doctor, pleased with herself as the locker successfully bangs shut, allowing her to take the key and secure it to her wrist.

With her arms free of objects, the first thing Yaz notices is the Doctor’s swimming costume. Somehow, she had managed to find a navy one with her token horizontal rainbow across the chest. The second thing Yaz notices is the Doctor’s body. She has to clench her jaw to stop it from dropping. The Doctor’s usual outfits were baggy and left most to the imagination. Her swimming costume, on the other hand, leaves almost nothing to the imagination. It is so _tight_. Yaz can see the vague outline of her abs down her stomach, and the changing rooms are so cold, it’s hard to keep her eyes from slipping to the Doctor’s chest. Her arms, usually masked by her coat, are far more toned than Yaz had been expecting.

“See something you like?” the Doctor asks with a knowing smirk and an attempt at what Yaz can only assume is a wink. “Let’s go,” she says, taking Yaz by the hand and pulling her towards the pool. “We’ve only got an hour!”

Yaz inwardly groans. How she’ll be able to spend an hour with the Doctor so scantily clad and stay appropriate, will likely remain a mystery to her. She’s never been one with great impulse control.

The first stop is the wave pool. As they exit the changing rooms, they hear a siren sound. The wave pool is about to become active. The Doctor’s eyes meet Yaz’s. Yaz knows nothing in the world could stop the Doctor from heading out into the water that will soon become tall waves. Somehow, they manage to make it right to the front of the wave pool before it begins _and _without pushing any children out of the way to get there.

As a child, Yaz had never been allowed to go to Ponds Forge with her friends. Her parents had always stopped her going for reasons they would never tell her. Today, Yaz feels as though her childhood self is managing to live vicariously through the Doctor. Her reaction to the waves makes her the epitome of pure joy. That, along with the Doctor being swept into Yaz’s front makes it almost worth being knocked into by small children who have no boundaries relating to personal space.

After the waves, the Doctor and Yaz retire to the rapids which circle the pool they were just in. Though busy, it’s a refreshing slow relief for Yaz, and the availability of just one float between the two of them gives a welcome excuse for proximity. They go around and around, talking about everything and nothing. They discuss Yaz’s journey into the police, debate their place on faraway planets, and deliberate various would-you-rather scenarios.

At the sound of the next siren, the Doctor shows no sign of wanting to return to the waves as everyone else departs the rapids for them, and Yaz is relieved. She also makes no move to grab one of the now-spare floats. Nor does the Doctor. Instead, they leisurely float along the channel, getting ever so slightly closer to each other as time goes on.

There is a high wall around the wave pool. It aims to keep the waves within them and out of the rapids. But it also keeps those in the rapids stream out of view. The Doctor stops them by planting her feet firmly on the bottom of the pool. She nudges Yaz towards the wall with the float. Neither has exerted themselves in the pool, but both of their chests rise and fall rapidly, their eye contact never dropping and only growing heavier. The Doctor briefly checks they are out of view from everyone else before she closes the gap between herself and Yaz.

Yaz feels as though the world has stopped spinning. Her butterflies are so strong they threaten to spill out of her mouth and into the Doctor’s. The Doctor’s lips are softer than anything Yaz has ever felt, but she applies a firmness that grounds Yaz as she melts into the other woman’s arms. Yaz kisses back, keen to return the pleasure she feels, and her hand snakes around to the back of the Doctor’s head, lightly fisting her hair, coaxing a tiny moan out of the blonde.

It is this noise that ends the kiss, as the Doctor pulls back, eyes wide, frantically searching to check if they have been caught. They are safe and, while the Doctor is unapologetic for the kiss, she would rather they weren’t spotted in such activities. And so, with Yaz in tow, she leaps out of the rapids just in time for the slides. “Fancy a race?” she asks.

“Only if you’re willing to lose,” counters Yaz with a playful tug at the corner of her lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” replies the Doctor, her voice more raspy than normal.

Its breathiness sends a jolt through Yaz’s body, and Yaz realises that the kiss had a much larger effect on her than she thought it had. Wordlessly, she follows the Doctor up the steps to the slides, focusing hard on keeping her eyes off the Doctor’s rear and on the stairs so she doesn’t fall up the steps.

When they reach the top, there is no standing queue, just a lifeguard who tells them they can go when the traffic lights turn green. Yaz settles in the left slide and the Doctor sets up in the right. They lock eyes, and Yaz is suddenly struck by the beauty of the Doctor’s. They are like starlight. There is a warmness to the hazel of her eyes that she hadn’t seen so clearly before. There is a playful glint. There is a scar just above her left eyebrow. There are so many pieces to a person, Yaz realises. There are so many small stories and so few opportunities to read them.

And then the Doctor is gone.

Too occupied by the Doctor’s eyes, Yaz had failed to notice the changing of the traffic lights signalling the start to their race. She curses under her breath and swings herself into the tube, hoping the momentum is enough to take her into the lead.

It is not.

The Doctor wins that race. And the next. And the next. And the next.

“I’ve got an advantage,” she explains as they leave the pool and head back towards the changing rooms. “I’ve had lifetimes of practice.” And, when they are standing under the weak, lukewarm showers, she confesses her secret method. “You want as little friction as possible, so you lie flat on your back, with your heels and shoulder blades being the only things touching the slide itself.”

Yaz shakes her head fondly. Only the Doctor would scheme to find the best water slide method possible.

When the pair head out of the showers to find their clothes, Yaz feels her heart drop with the knowledge that their first date is almost over, and it sinks even further as she remembers the Doctor will, once again, be wearing her usual non-tight clothing.

31/5/2019

Exactly 28 800 hours after their first date, the Doctor skids around one of the many corners of the TARDIS. She has recently invested in a pair of fluffy socks which have provided her with much entertainment as she slides from place to place, only bumping into the odd wall. Her pace would normally bring slight fear to her companions, but now things are different. Speed and distant thunks no longer mean danger. They now mean the Doctor is having fun. So this time, when the Doctor skids around one of the many corners of the TARDIS, neither Yaz nor Ryan nor Graham think anything of it. Until they hear her voice.

“We need to talk,” the Doctor says gravely.

All three heads swivel towards her, their faces mirroring her tone. Not one of them speaks a word.

“Yasmin, can we talk?”

Yaz’s heart plummets.

“Full name?” says Graham. “Must be bad.”

“Or someone’s in trouble,” adds Ryan.

Both Yaz and the Doctor ignore them, shuffling in silence to an empty room.

“Is everything okay?” asks Yaz, her voice bouncing off the barren walls. She has never seen this room before, though this is no bad thing. All it contains is a chaise lounge with a tall lamp behind it. A good spot for reading, Yaz thinks, but not good for much else.

“Yeah,” replies the Doctor, brows knitted in confusion. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Yaz gestures in the general direction of where they came from. “You sounded pretty serious when you called me in here.”

“I did?” the Doctor scrunches up her nose. “Ignore me, Yasmin Khan, nothing to worry about here at all!”

A beat passes.

“Then may I inquire as to why you’ve brought me here?”

“Oh, that.”

Without another second, the Doctor picks Yaz up by the waist, allowing the smaller girl’s legs to wrap around her waist. She carries her towards the chaise lounge and lowers her without an ounce of effort. Here, she pushes Yaz backwards, gentle but firm, and captures her lips in a passionate kiss.

Yaz responds immediately, running her fingers lightly up and down the Doctor’s back, leaving goosebumps along their path beneath her shirt. On second thoughts, Yaz realises this room is good for things other than reading.

Just as Yaz begins to deepen the kiss further, the Doctor pulls back leaving Yaz aching for more.

“I have a question,” says the Doctor.

“Go on,” coaxes Yaz, slightly frustrated that the Doctor has interrupted something that felt so good just for a question.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?” the Doctor asks. “Officially, I mean,” she clarifies.

Yaz’s heart swells, her frustration gone in an instant. “I would love to be your girlfriend.” On third thoughts, Yaz realises this room is good for a lot of things other than reading. She kisses the Doctor once more, with the same fervour as she had before they stopped.

This time, it is Yaz who breaks the kiss. “Do you think we should go and quell Ryan and Graham’s panic?” she asks.

“Nah,” dismisses the Doctor with a twinkle in her eye. “Let’s leave it to simmer for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there we go !! as ever, thank you very much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos - they really mean a lot <3 if you think of anything you want to see later in the fic, please comment and let me know or message/send an ask to me @antiopesgirlfriend on tumblr. also, please feel free to come and scream to me about the new series !! i am very excited !!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you ever so much for reading! please let me know what you thought and/or of anything you want to see in the future <3 cheers pals


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